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Editor’s note: With the Gophers on their bye week, we look back at the brief Minnesota coaching tenure of Lou Holtz with an excerpt from a new book by Pioneer Press reporter/columnist Brian Murphy, 100 Things Minnesota Sports Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die.
He talked loud and carried a big shtick into this football graveyard on that bone-chilling winter’s day in December 1983, unleashing an arm’s-length rebuilding project that snowed star-crossed Minnesota fans, boosters and politicians who feted the owlish coach like a pharaoh.
Truth is, Lou Holtz hated cold weather. He had no burning desire to resurrect a sad-sack program so desperate for national recognition university leaders eagerly furnished this Southern carpetbagger his nonbinding ticket out of town.
Minnesota had never experienced anything like the L’Affaire Holtz. His meteoric 23-month reign was a marketing godsend that packed the Metrodome and made Gophers football relevant for the first time in two decades.
Maroon and Gold mania captured the Twin Cities and swept across the state. Legacy fans dreamed of Rose Bowl parades again and New Year’s Day in the southern California sunshine. The newly initiated discovered there was a major college football team in town.
Holtz walked on water … all the way to Notre Dame.
He spent Tuesday, Nov. 23, 1985, deflecting raging rumors he was courting the Fighting Irish job during a news conference in Minneapolis to promote Minnesota’s appearance in the Independence Bowl. By Thursday, he was front and center at a massive media event in South Bend, Ind., accepting his dream job as jilted Gophers fans fumed.
The biggest shock was that anybody was surprised.
Holtz negotiated an out clause in his five-year contract (editor note: no he didn't) and told anyone who would listen that Notre Dame was the only college football job worth desertion.
“I’ve always had a warm spot in my heart for Notre Dame,” Holtz said.
Not to surrogates to leak under the cloak of anonymity but in sit-down interviews with Minnesota reporters.
He spent his introductory news conference in Minneapolis Dec. 23, 1983, whining about the weather and musing how he had arrived at this way station in his career following an ugly breakup with Arkansas.
Holtz took the Razorbacks to six bowl games in seven seasons and compiled a 33-14-1 record in the cutthroat Southwest Conference. A 6-5 finish in 1983 exacerbated a rift with athletic director Frank Broyles, who reportedly was prepared to fire Holtz before the coach caught wind and promptly resigned, raking in an $800,000 contract buyout.
After Holtz cashed out in Fayetteville, Minnesota’s search committee was nowhere in its pursuit of a successor for hapless Joe Salem. Midway through the ’83 season, Salem resigned in the midst of a 1-10 disaster. His 19-35-1 record in five seasons included 17 straight Big Ten losses.
Bobby Ross of Maryland and LaVell Edwards of Brigham Young were solicited for interviews. Both said no thanks. The only viable candidate was Vikings assistant coach Les Steckel, who withdrew after his proposed upgrades to the Gophers’ dilapidated facilities were stiff-armed.
Search committee chairman Frank Wilderson telephoned Holtz.
“The next thing I know, I’m on my way to Minnesota,” Holtz recounted. “I didn’t know why; I loathe cold weather. I still do. A woman in Arkansas asked me where I was going to live. I said indoors.”
The wind-chill factor was minus-50 when university president C. Peter Magrath presented Holtz and his wife, Beth, wool hats and scarves during a photo op while declaring it morning in Dinkytown again.
Holtz boasted a college record of 106-52-5 in a career that started at William & Mary and moved on to North Carolina State. After a failed 1976 season with the NFL’s New York Jets, Holtz returned to the college ranks when he succeeded Broyles at Arkansas.
His first year with the Razorbacks Holtz finished 11-1, including a shocking 31-6 upset of No. 2-ranked Oklahoma at the 1978 Orange Bowl.
The 21st coach in 101 years of Minnesota football was the most accomplished since Murray Warmath led the Gophers to their only two Rose Bowl appearances in the early 1960s. But Holtz inherited a program that had lost 14 of its last 18 games, had been outscored by an average of 47-16 in 1983, including a nightmarish 84-13 loss to Nebraska at the Metrodome.
“I’m not a miracle worker. It doesn’t happen with a magic wand,” he said. “You have to have a plan. We will recruit nationally but we have to have a base and we can’t compete in the Big Ten without a base of Minnesota players.”
“The No. 1 question is, Can we win? I believe we can.”
One day Holtz was driving athletic director Paul Giel to a speaking function. Holtz pulled into the lot and parked up front in a handicap spot.
“Lou, you can’t part there, you’re not handicapped,” Giel told him.
“Paul, there is no one more handicapped than the head football coach at Minnesota,” Holtz replied.
Holtz signed a five-year deal for $100,000 annually, the highest base salary in the Big Ten — twice as much as Salem earned. He also made $75,000 annually in radio appearance fees.
At 5-8, 150 pounds, Holtz was all bones and eyeglasses, with a flop of red-blond hair, a lisp and an evangelist’s gift for storytelling that made him a hit on the lecture circuit.
His fame in Arkansas made him a go-to guest for Johnny Carson, who was smitten with Holtz’s magic tricks. He had dined with President Reagan.
At his first team meeting with the Gophers, Holtz had players in stitches with his rah-rah mantras, shredded newspaper trick and three-ball disappearing act. Gophers fans lapped up his irrepressible energy. Gov. Rudy Perpich pledged the state’s unwavering commitment to promoting Minnesota football.
A Lou Holtz look-a-like contest at Dayton’s department store in downtown Minneapolis helped drum up season-ticket sales. During the buildup to the 1984 season, 18,000 new season-ticket packages were sold. Football revenue was up $2 million at the end of the fiscal year.
The “Taj Mah Holtz,” a $5 million indoor training facility, was green lit without any of the pushback Steckel experienced.
Holtz’s image was everywhere in Minnesota, from grocery bags at Hy-Vee to Big Mac cartons at McDonald’s.
“Frankly, that’s all you have when you’re coming off 1-10,” said Gophers ticket manager Ken Buell.
Not everyone was impressed. As the 1984 season dawned, Sports Illustrated clucked, “No coach will win again, ever, at Minnesota, where losing is a tradition carved in ice.”
Holtz finished 4-7 his initial season, mostly with Salem’s leftovers. By 1985, the Gophers were gaining traction.
Quarterback Rickie Foggie was an athletic runner-passer who provided a much-needed offensive spark. Minnesota was No. 20 at midseason before a 23-19 loss to Ohio State knocked them out of the rankings.
The rumors started circulating in November. Gerry Faust was on his way out at Notre Dame. Reports had Holtz meeting with Notre Dame’s clergy in Minneapolis and Indiana.
Holtz denied the meetings but did not run screaming from the speculation. Instead, he embraced it.
“I think I can honestly say this: I wouldn’t ever consider leaving Minnesota for any job in the country with the possible exception of Notre Dame,” Holtz told St. Paul Pioneer Press columnist Charley Walters. “I had that feeling when I came here and I expressed it to the administration.”
The Gophers (6-5) were ticketed to play Clemson in the Independence Bowl Dec. 21, just their second postseason appearance since the 1962 Rose Bowl. The timing was terrible for a defection but Holtz, a devout Catholic, was compelled to accept the country’s premier college coaching job.
One can argue the temerity of his decision but not the results. Holtz became a legend in 11 seasons at Notre Dame.
He led the Irish to a 12-0 record in 1988 and a Fiesta Bowl victory that secured the school’s first national championship since 1977.
John Gutekunst succeeded Holtz at Minnesota and went 29-36-2 in six-plus seasons, including a 21-14 loss to Tennessee in the 1986 Liberty Bowl.
It took the Gophers another 13 years to reach another bowl game.
http://www.twincities.com/2017/09/2...ball-coach-to-capture-minnesotas-imagination/
He talked loud and carried a big shtick into this football graveyard on that bone-chilling winter’s day in December 1983, unleashing an arm’s-length rebuilding project that snowed star-crossed Minnesota fans, boosters and politicians who feted the owlish coach like a pharaoh.
Truth is, Lou Holtz hated cold weather. He had no burning desire to resurrect a sad-sack program so desperate for national recognition university leaders eagerly furnished this Southern carpetbagger his nonbinding ticket out of town.
Minnesota had never experienced anything like the L’Affaire Holtz. His meteoric 23-month reign was a marketing godsend that packed the Metrodome and made Gophers football relevant for the first time in two decades.
Maroon and Gold mania captured the Twin Cities and swept across the state. Legacy fans dreamed of Rose Bowl parades again and New Year’s Day in the southern California sunshine. The newly initiated discovered there was a major college football team in town.
Holtz walked on water … all the way to Notre Dame.
He spent Tuesday, Nov. 23, 1985, deflecting raging rumors he was courting the Fighting Irish job during a news conference in Minneapolis to promote Minnesota’s appearance in the Independence Bowl. By Thursday, he was front and center at a massive media event in South Bend, Ind., accepting his dream job as jilted Gophers fans fumed.
The biggest shock was that anybody was surprised.
Holtz negotiated an out clause in his five-year contract (editor note: no he didn't) and told anyone who would listen that Notre Dame was the only college football job worth desertion.
“I’ve always had a warm spot in my heart for Notre Dame,” Holtz said.
Not to surrogates to leak under the cloak of anonymity but in sit-down interviews with Minnesota reporters.
He spent his introductory news conference in Minneapolis Dec. 23, 1983, whining about the weather and musing how he had arrived at this way station in his career following an ugly breakup with Arkansas.
Holtz took the Razorbacks to six bowl games in seven seasons and compiled a 33-14-1 record in the cutthroat Southwest Conference. A 6-5 finish in 1983 exacerbated a rift with athletic director Frank Broyles, who reportedly was prepared to fire Holtz before the coach caught wind and promptly resigned, raking in an $800,000 contract buyout.
After Holtz cashed out in Fayetteville, Minnesota’s search committee was nowhere in its pursuit of a successor for hapless Joe Salem. Midway through the ’83 season, Salem resigned in the midst of a 1-10 disaster. His 19-35-1 record in five seasons included 17 straight Big Ten losses.
Bobby Ross of Maryland and LaVell Edwards of Brigham Young were solicited for interviews. Both said no thanks. The only viable candidate was Vikings assistant coach Les Steckel, who withdrew after his proposed upgrades to the Gophers’ dilapidated facilities were stiff-armed.
Search committee chairman Frank Wilderson telephoned Holtz.
“The next thing I know, I’m on my way to Minnesota,” Holtz recounted. “I didn’t know why; I loathe cold weather. I still do. A woman in Arkansas asked me where I was going to live. I said indoors.”
The wind-chill factor was minus-50 when university president C. Peter Magrath presented Holtz and his wife, Beth, wool hats and scarves during a photo op while declaring it morning in Dinkytown again.
Holtz boasted a college record of 106-52-5 in a career that started at William & Mary and moved on to North Carolina State. After a failed 1976 season with the NFL’s New York Jets, Holtz returned to the college ranks when he succeeded Broyles at Arkansas.
His first year with the Razorbacks Holtz finished 11-1, including a shocking 31-6 upset of No. 2-ranked Oklahoma at the 1978 Orange Bowl.
The 21st coach in 101 years of Minnesota football was the most accomplished since Murray Warmath led the Gophers to their only two Rose Bowl appearances in the early 1960s. But Holtz inherited a program that had lost 14 of its last 18 games, had been outscored by an average of 47-16 in 1983, including a nightmarish 84-13 loss to Nebraska at the Metrodome.
“I’m not a miracle worker. It doesn’t happen with a magic wand,” he said. “You have to have a plan. We will recruit nationally but we have to have a base and we can’t compete in the Big Ten without a base of Minnesota players.”
“The No. 1 question is, Can we win? I believe we can.”
One day Holtz was driving athletic director Paul Giel to a speaking function. Holtz pulled into the lot and parked up front in a handicap spot.
“Lou, you can’t part there, you’re not handicapped,” Giel told him.
“Paul, there is no one more handicapped than the head football coach at Minnesota,” Holtz replied.
Holtz signed a five-year deal for $100,000 annually, the highest base salary in the Big Ten — twice as much as Salem earned. He also made $75,000 annually in radio appearance fees.
At 5-8, 150 pounds, Holtz was all bones and eyeglasses, with a flop of red-blond hair, a lisp and an evangelist’s gift for storytelling that made him a hit on the lecture circuit.
His fame in Arkansas made him a go-to guest for Johnny Carson, who was smitten with Holtz’s magic tricks. He had dined with President Reagan.
At his first team meeting with the Gophers, Holtz had players in stitches with his rah-rah mantras, shredded newspaper trick and three-ball disappearing act. Gophers fans lapped up his irrepressible energy. Gov. Rudy Perpich pledged the state’s unwavering commitment to promoting Minnesota football.
A Lou Holtz look-a-like contest at Dayton’s department store in downtown Minneapolis helped drum up season-ticket sales. During the buildup to the 1984 season, 18,000 new season-ticket packages were sold. Football revenue was up $2 million at the end of the fiscal year.
The “Taj Mah Holtz,” a $5 million indoor training facility, was green lit without any of the pushback Steckel experienced.
Holtz’s image was everywhere in Minnesota, from grocery bags at Hy-Vee to Big Mac cartons at McDonald’s.
“Frankly, that’s all you have when you’re coming off 1-10,” said Gophers ticket manager Ken Buell.
Not everyone was impressed. As the 1984 season dawned, Sports Illustrated clucked, “No coach will win again, ever, at Minnesota, where losing is a tradition carved in ice.”
Holtz finished 4-7 his initial season, mostly with Salem’s leftovers. By 1985, the Gophers were gaining traction.
Quarterback Rickie Foggie was an athletic runner-passer who provided a much-needed offensive spark. Minnesota was No. 20 at midseason before a 23-19 loss to Ohio State knocked them out of the rankings.
The rumors started circulating in November. Gerry Faust was on his way out at Notre Dame. Reports had Holtz meeting with Notre Dame’s clergy in Minneapolis and Indiana.
Holtz denied the meetings but did not run screaming from the speculation. Instead, he embraced it.
“I think I can honestly say this: I wouldn’t ever consider leaving Minnesota for any job in the country with the possible exception of Notre Dame,” Holtz told St. Paul Pioneer Press columnist Charley Walters. “I had that feeling when I came here and I expressed it to the administration.”
The Gophers (6-5) were ticketed to play Clemson in the Independence Bowl Dec. 21, just their second postseason appearance since the 1962 Rose Bowl. The timing was terrible for a defection but Holtz, a devout Catholic, was compelled to accept the country’s premier college coaching job.
One can argue the temerity of his decision but not the results. Holtz became a legend in 11 seasons at Notre Dame.
He led the Irish to a 12-0 record in 1988 and a Fiesta Bowl victory that secured the school’s first national championship since 1977.
John Gutekunst succeeded Holtz at Minnesota and went 29-36-2 in six-plus seasons, including a 21-14 loss to Tennessee in the 1986 Liberty Bowl.
It took the Gophers another 13 years to reach another bowl game.
http://www.twincities.com/2017/09/2...ball-coach-to-capture-minnesotas-imagination/